1225 Sunrise: May 2005

It's unlikely that my cat will ever get out into the street. He spends most of his day asleep on his favorite chair, curled up in a fleece throw that is covered in ones and zeros. The binary code spells out "blanket." For about an hour after we get up in the morning, he tear-asses around the apartment chasing shadows and trying to get into the shower. This is of course after his 6am morning breakfast call, which can come via a sneak attack on an uncovered toe or finger, or maybe a quick romp across the bookcase to play the game we lovingly refer to as "knock as much shit onto the floor as possible until there is a loud enough crash to wake your ass up." I love this game.

The rest of the day is a routine of eating, sun-beaming, stretching (he really is very long), and cleaning (his flexibility for those hard to reach places is astonishing). As we leave in the morning for work, he will never fail to walk out the door to explore the hallway and see how far away that delicious sausage biscuit smell is coming from. He never gets very far before an elevator ding or a neighbor sends him galloping back for our apartment, but his sense of adventure always replenishes. And at night when we get home, he is always there at the door, waiting for our return as if he hasn't left the sentry post all day. He accepts a little scratching before we serve his dinner, and then it's back to sleep for another 12 hours.

On fine spring days, we sometimes attempt to give the cat a little outdoors time and bring him to the courtyard. Trying to get a cat into a harness and leash is not an idea I would recommend unless you enjoy Neosporan, but it gives us a sense of security nonetheless. He usually does very well outside. We have a closed in courtyard behind our apartment building and although people sometimes come through while we're out there, for the most part it's as controlled an area as we could probably find.

But you never know. A dog that's gone off it's leash, a squirrel that looks too good to let get away, a rush up a tree trunk and out of reach... any of these things can happen to a pet outside, especially one as jittery as our scardey-cat. So the last time we went to our vet we asked about a procedure we had heard about from a number of places, but mostly Animal Planet. You can get a microchip implanted into your pet so that if he ever gets lost the shelter that picks him up will be able to identify him and contact you for his safe return. They run a wand over your pet's back and, if a microchip is present, a number will pop up on the display which correlates to the information about you on file. For a cat who routinely leaves his collar in such easy access places as underneath the clothes washer and behind the entertainment center, this device is a great way to make sure your pet has identification with him at all times. Implanting cab fare is the next logical step.

We asked our vet if this procedure was recommended and he was so adamant in his praise, citing two reunion stories from just that month, that we said ok. We asked when we would need to schedule that for, but before we could even get the words out, he had removed a small needle from a drawer and was pulling together some scruff for a quick injection. It was over in seconds - no surgery, no anesthesia, no apparent objection from the cat. The vet waved his wand and our registration number came up in an instant. The "procedure" cost $50 to the vet for the chip and another $18 to HomeAgainID for registration. The chip lasts for a lifetime, and we'll always be able to track our kitty down if he ever wanders too far down the hallway, searching for that sausage biscuit.